Wynter's Grasp
by poke-a-spark
Summary: F!Surana/Morrigan, might contain traces of FFX. Templars suck. The Circle sucks. Her past is fuzzy and not only is she a mage but an elf as well. Now, thanks to her Blood Mage of a 'friend', it's death by Darkspawn or by Templar.Darkspawn it is. *ON HOLD*
1. The Harrowing

**WARNING: This will be a female!Surana/Morrigan story, meaning two girls will be in a relationship. Eventually. There will also be a small crossover with Final Fantasy X later on. No knowledge is needed of the game as I'm using it mostly as something that happened in the past, like a long forgotten legend, though some aspects will come into play later on, I'm twisting them to my needs and to fit the world of Dragon Age. This story will follow Dragon Age: Origins somewhat, though for obvious reasons it will deviate a little to a lot in certain situations, with a few added elements here and there. And finally, this will be a long story, since I dislike most short ones. I try not to rush the story, and so it might even be broken down into multiple ones. I'm as of yet undecided. If you take exception to any of this, or if this kind of story isn't your cup of tea, then by all means, heed this warning and click the back button. To all others, feel free to read, comment, and perhaps even add your suggestions. You've certainly played this game more than I have.**

**Wynter's Grasp**

**Chapter 1 – The Harrowing**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything related to the Dragon Age or Final Fantasy franchise. I don't even own most of the plot. In fact, let's just say that if you recognize it, I don't own it.

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Wynter blinked her eyes rapidly to clear her spotty vision. Well _that_ certainly wasn't what she was expecting. Sure, young apprentices were told time and time again that the Harrowing was dangerous and that there is a high chance that, lacking sufficient will, you will die. Wynter herself had been told plenty of times these very things, and, like the other apprentices, had spent a copious amount of time pondering what exactly the Harrowing entailed. Despite the various scenarios her somewhat twisted imagination had come up with, a lyrium induced trip to the Fade to fight a demon or else be skewered by a bloody templar had not been one of them.

She was weaponless, armourless, and clueless. She was also stuck in a place where various _things _would love to take advantage of those very facts and possess her, whilst in the waking world a dozen Templars stood watch over her unmoving body with their swords drawn, waiting for a sign to strike. Cocking her head at the sound of a wolf's howl and brushing one of her silver braids aside, Wynter wiped her hands on her robe and started forward.

"No time like the present," she muttered as she strode down the discoloured cobblestone path. Looking around, Wynter was able to make out strange rock formations to either side of the path, and, beyond that, a shear drop into nothingness. "Yep. Okay. Note to self, do not wander off the beaten path."

Her wanderings took her past many strange things. The Fade being essentially a land of dreams where demons and spirits lived, the scenery wasn't exactly what you'd come to expect in the real world. In fact, even your perception shifts slightly while in the fade, everything becoming more ethereal. This meant that if someone found themselves in the Fade without knowing it in the first place, their perception would be shifted just enough to entice and convince them that nothing was wrong and giant floating rocks were an everyday occurrence.

Many might find the Fade fascinating, or even frightening. All Wynter could think was how dull and boring it was. The scenery sucked and was, to be perfectly honest, kind of creepy. Her feet hurt from walking, and she still hadn't come across the demon she was supposed to fight. In fact, besides taking a minute to stare at a disturbing statue of some sort of tentacle-man-thing and pilfering a few packets of health poultices from a bland clay vase, Wynter hadn't come across anything of interest.

An hour later and Wynter still hadn't found what she was looking for. Stomping forward with a scowl, Wynter stumbled slightly as she heard a frightened squeak and saw a rat scurry out from beneath her feet. Confused and wary, she eyed the critter as it began to speak. "Someone else thrown to the wolves, and as unprepared as ever. It isn't right that the Templars do this. Not to you or me or anyone."

Blinking dumbly, Wynter opened her mouth but no sound would come out. Clearing her throat, she tried again, still staring at the rat. "You're a talking rat." Well, she had been looking for something to break the perpetual cloud of boredom she had been in, though a talking rat wasn't exactly what she had been hoping for.

The rat began laughing at her, his tone condescending as he told her the only reason she looked like she did was because she thought she looked that way. She had half a mind to tell him off before something else he said piqued her interest.

"You took the Harrowing?"

"It's fuzzy, that time before. They wake you up in the middle of the night before dragging you to the Harrowing chamber. They kill you if you take too much time, figuring that you lost. That's what they did to me, I think. I have no body to reclaim. And you don't have much time before you end up the same." The rat-turned-man replied, his eyes unfocused as if trying to reclaim a lost memory.

"That…really sucks. No offense Ratman, but I really don't want to be stuck here with you. In fact, I refuse to let that happen to me." _Not only because I'd rather be alive, but because you give me the creeps._ She found the ability to shift into a different form fascinating, but something about his aura set her on edge, making the magic within her swirl around and come to rest just below the surface. A twitch of her fingers and Ratman would be wishing he were in the tropics.

"That has been said before, but you don't know the danger. Something foul awaits you, something dangerous that has been drawn out to attack you. Either you kill the demon or it will possess you, and you will be struck down by the Templars the moment you wake up." _You tell me I have little time left, and then you prattle on about things that were made obvious in the Harrowing chamber, consequently wasting my time._

"Look Ratman," Wynter interrupted, rolling her eyes as he glared at the name she had given him, "I appreciate the warnings, I really do, and I'm _sure_ you mean well, but I'm tired, cranky, and I refuse to die by the hand of a templar. Come or don't come, but I'm going to find the demon and kick it's ass so I can wake up and go back to bed."

Walking forward at a brisk pace, Wynter threw her hand up and caught a Wisp Wraith in her Winter's Grasp, the ice spell freezing her floating opponent before she had even fully made it around the corner. "Not bad. Not bad at all." Wynter smirked, striking another one with an Arcane Bolt. Perhaps things wouldn't be as boring as she thought they'd be. Behind her she could hear the heavy footfalls of Ratman, or at least they were heavy compared to her own light steps. One of the very few perks of being an elf.

As she crested a hill, Wynter slowed down before coming to a stop before a glowing white figure in armour. Weapon stands surrounded a flaming anvil behind him, but what really caught Wynter's eye was the spiral of weapons suspended in the sky behind him. "That's…not something you see every day." She muttered to herself as she craned her neck to see that the suspended weapons continued up into the dark clouds. Turning her attention once again to the figure in white, she hesitated only briefly before walking up to him. _What the hell_, she thought with an inward shrug_; he doesn't feel malevolent and doesn't set me on edge like Ratman._

"Another mortal thrown into the flames and left to burn I see. Your mages devised a cowardly test. Better you were pitted against each other to prove your mettle with skill, than to be sent unarmed against a demon." His voice was confident and steady, yet seemed to resonate strongly like an echo.

"I agree, but I didn't have a choice." _Nope, no choice. It was this or die. Tranquility isn't even an option._

"Indeed. Choice and the fault lie with the mages who sent you here. That you remain means that you have not yet defeated your hunter. I wish you a glorious battle to come." His voice boomed from within his suit.

Nodding in thanks, Wynter studied the spirit curiously. He seemed sincere, more so than Ratman, and she had always had a certain fascination for spirits, though she learned early on to hide this fact from her teachers. Her curiosity, however, was infamous among those who knew her and so she had put her elven stealth and hearing to good use, focusing on conversations where spirits were mentioned and sneaking through the libraries past curfew. Despite her findings, she was left much more questions than answers, as it seems most books about spirits had either been destroyed or forbidden by the Chantry. Curiosity getting the best of her again, she couldn't help but question the entity before her. "What kind of spirit are you? If you don't mind me asking, that is."

"I am Valor, a warrior spirit. I hone my weapons in search of the perfect expression of combat." He stated his voice level yet not disturbing like those of the Tranquil.

"These weapons, did you create them all?" She asked as she gazed at the weapons again, not even bothering to count them. They seemed sharp and well made, and the flaming anvil behind her had left her wondering if he had crafted them himself.

"They are brought into being by my will. I understand that in your world, mages are the only ones who can will things into being. Those mortals who cannot must live such hollow, empty lives." His voice remained level, and yet Wynter could feel the emotion behind them, his power giving off an aura of pity.

Wynter almost snorted in dark amusement. _They make up for their lack of magical abilities by controlling ours._ "What else do you know about the Harrowing? You must have encountered many of us over the years."

"Is that what your test is called? I know little of your mortal ways. I do know that a demon has been called and told that a meal awaits. It will not—cannot leave—until one of you is dead." _Bastards. A meal, am I? I'll show you a bloody meal. And even if it had the will and want to leave instead, it wouldn't be able to. Those damn Templars are forcing both of our hands. If I do fail, though the chance is next to nil, I hope those bastards get just what they deserve._

Letting out a long, slow breath and counting backwards from ten in Orlesian, Wynter's attention was once again drawn to the weapons behind Valor. "Would these weapons affect the demon?" She questioned, curiosity once again taking hold of her and calming her homicidal thought process. The blades looked wickedly sharp and the staves seemed sturdy enough, but then again, she had never fought a demon before.

"Without a doubt," He replied, as if it was and undisputed and obvious fact and she was touched in the head for even having to ask. "In this realm everything is an expression of will. Do you believe the blades to be sharp? Do you believe they can draw blood? These weapons are an expression of my will and the will to fight. Do you truly desire one of my weapons? I will give one to you… if you agree to duel me, first. Valor shall test your mettle as it should be tested."

Interest piqued, Wynter weighed her options. It would be terribly foolish of her to enter battle with something like a demon without a staff to help focus her spells. On the other hand, she held no illusions that she would be able to defeat this mighty spirit in a duel. Still… "And what are the rules of this duel?"

"If I believe you capable of slaying the demon, I will stop the duel and give you the staff. If I don't then I will slay you. I trust those rules are simple enough to remember, mortal?"

_Well then. Those are pretty high stakes, though I guess no higher than what'll happen if I fail. That staff could mean the difference between life and death, and surely Valor would fight with honour..._ Tapping her pursed lips thoughtfully, Wynter shrugged and grinned mischievously._ Oh well, if I fail, at least I would have died by his hand and not a Templar's. _"I agree to your duel, Valor."

"As you wish mortal. Do you understand the rules I explained to you?" He questioned, not surprising her in the least. She had figured him a fair spirit, and his willingness to explain the rules again to a mortal like her confirmed it.

"Yes, I understand." Wynter replied, just barely biting back the cheeky, smartass comment that was on the tip of her tongue. Making smartass comments and playfully teasing others amused her greatly, though she didn't think Valor would appreciate her cheek. Or understand it, really. He seemed like a straightforward kind of spirit with only honour and battle on the mind. _And it was a really good one too…_

"Our duel begins now. Fight with Valor!" He stated, his unintentional pun causing her to snicker and barely avoid being cleaved in two.

_Holy shit_. Eyes wide, Wynter nimbly leaped backwards trying to put as much space between her and his sword as possible. _That was close. Focus, focus_. Drawing upon her mana, she quickly wove the Winter's Grasp spell that she was so fond of before letting off three Arcane Bolts in quick succession. The ice spell slowed him down slightly while the bolts of magic threw him slightly off balance, giving her enough time to leap to her left before his sword impacted the ground where she once stood.

Eyeing him closely, she realized that he wasn't going at full power. In fact, the rules were to show him she could fight, not to show him she could defeat him. Grinning, she dodged another swing and let out four more Arcane Bolts before dashing away from him. Deciding that she was far enough, she turned back around and concentrated. Her hands became covered in a dense cold cloud of tiny ice shards. She poured more and more mana into the spell and let it loose just as he reached her, sword overhead and ready to bisect her. The spell crashed into the glowing white spirit and froze him for a moment before he broke the hold the spell had on him, slowly sheathing his sword.

Panting slightly, for that last spell took a bit out of her, she waited for the verdict. "Enough. Your strength is sufficient to the task. The staff is yours."

"Thank you." She said, grinning mischievously as she accepted the weapon and gave it a few practice swings before leaking her magic into it to see how it felt. Eyes widening at the feel, she experimentally let off a bolt of magic, channelling it through the staff. It worked easily with little focus, much better than the practice staves they were taught with as children. "There's no chance it'll stay with me when I leave the Fade, is there?" She asked, eyes still running along the staff.

"I suspect not." Ah, bugger. That sucks. Pouting slightly, Wynter thanked the spirit again before continuing on her way. She didn't know how long she had been in the Fade, and she was uncertain how long she had left. If there was indeed a time limit, she had no doubt the Templars would take joy in carrying out their 'duty'. Therefore she had to find the demon and kill the damn thing.

Once the warrior spirit was out of sight, she stopped and listened. Something wasn't right. The howls were getting closer, and seemed more hurried and joyful instead of lonely and full of sorrow. It was as if the half-starved wolf had found prey and was alerting…his…comrades…oh shit.

From a bend in the road in front of her came two snarling spirit wolves, their bodies scrawny and their eyes desperate. Throwing an Arcane bolt at one and a blast of ice at the other, Wynter dodged their leaps and fired off another spell at each, finally downing them for good. As she watched them dissipate with curiosity, her ears twitched and she barely had time to turn around before she was pounced on by another wolf.

Lying on her back with the wolf on top of her, the only thing that separated his teeth from her neck was the staff she held in both hands. Grunting with the force it took to keep the wolf back, she spoke through clenched teeth. "This. Is. My. Stick." Concentrating on her magic, her eyes began glowing slightly as her hands and staff crackled with energy. "Go. Get. Your. Own!" With a yell she channelled her energy outward from her staff, frying the wolf in the process. Not even giving it time to dissipate, she pushed the dead weight off of her with a grunt before using the staff to help her to her feet. Wiping the slobber that had dripped on to her neck, she made her way up the hill, groaning in frustration as she encountered another problem. _Great. At this rate I'll be stuck in here forever with only Ratman for company._

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Wynter waved to the stoic Valor as she retraced her steps to the spot where she was supposed to fight the demon. Behind her, a big black bear followed along. The figure at the dead end had ended up being a Sloth Demon. Not the best conversationalist or dinner guest, but what can you do. After answering three riddles correctly she had been able to convince him to show Ratman how to take on the form of a bear. Beary, as she now dubbed him, was now more useful to her, though no less creepy. He just gave off that vibe.

Walking into the clearing surrounded by fire, a clearing she really should have seen on the way in but had not, Wynter took a deep breath, readied her staff, and waited. And waited some more. Starting to grow frustrated, Wynter started tapping her foot in irritation as her left eyebrow began to twitch. After another few minutes of waiting, Wynter snapped. "Oh for the love of-! Hurry and get your demonic ass out here so I can be done or so help me I will shove my staff so far up your-"

Her angry tirade was broken as a spiral of fire erupted right in front of her. When the fire died out, an ugly, disfigured, thing, stood before her. Except it had no legs. It was like a red blob. With arms. And no mouth. Gross. She furiously tried to remember what kind of demon it was, and she had to admit she was kind of regretting not listening more closely during that Demons, The Fade, and You course last year. Looking at it again, she thought it might be a Rage demon. Maybe_. I mean, rage can be associated with fire, right? And I don't think the flames on his head are a fashion statement sooo…yep. We'll go with Rage demon. _

As it began to talk, Wynter tried to pay attention. She really did. She tried to listen attentively as it told her it was going to enjoy devouring and possessing her, but she couldn't. All she could do was stare at it in disturbed fascination. It was talking, in a really creepy kind of doubly voice, but that's not what caught her attention. Oh no, what caught her attention was his mouth. His _unmoving _mouth. The blob of fire was talking _without moving his mouth_. Either something was really wrong with this picture, or he was a damn good ventriloquist, and Wynter was betting on the former. He didn't seem the type to play with dolls.

Snapping back to reality when she realized it was done talking, she let a smirk slide onto her face as she readied her staff. "Then come and get me, if you can."

With a roar of rage, Rage began talking about how Ratman used to bring him others to eat. Ratman stated he was done and didn't have to hide anymore. Then all hell broke loose. She knew there was something creepy about him; he didn't feel right. Ratman turned into Beary and, with a roar, charged the raging blob as Wynter backed up a safe distance and began firing ice spells after she weakened his defenses with a hex. Though Wynter didn't trust Beary as far as she could throw him, she had to admit he was doing a good job at keeping Rage busy as she fired ice spell after ice spell. In fact, for this reason, and because ice was at the opposite end of the elemental spectrum from fire, the demon was defeated quite easily. With one more Winter's Grasp spell, the ugly thing was erased from existence.

With a pleased smirk, Wynter turned back to Ratman, watching as he took human form one again. "You did it. You actually did it. When you came I hoped you might be able to… but I never really thought any of you were worthy." He seemed excited.

Though he had helped, the creepy feeling she got from him hadn't gone away. She turned and looked at him warily. Eyes narrowing, she asked, "Sounds like your help was unusual. Why?"

"You made me believe in you. You're a true mage. One of the few. The others, they never had a chance. The Templars set them up to fail, like they did with you. I regret my part in it, but you have shown me that there is hope. You can be so much more than you know." Everything about him screamed sincere, regretful victim, from his expression to his tone of voice. Despite that, there was still a…a wrongness about him. Deciding to trust her instincts, she brought her magic to the surface, just in case.

"Anything to survive. Like an animal. Or worse." She replied in clipped tones, eyes fairly glowing with barely supressed energy.

"I am what the Fade has made me. Am I to blame for that? Deciding to exist or not exist is not a choice. If you want to help, there may be a way for me to leave here, to get a foothold outside. You just need to want to let me in." At the end his tone shifted, becoming more persuasive.

Alarm bells sounding in her mind, Wynter stepped back, allowing the cold to envelop her hands. "I'm starting to think the other demon wasn't my test."

"Wha-what do you, of course it was! What else is here that could be a threat to a strong apprentice like you?" Wynter merely glared at him. Seeing that he was no longer fooling her, he began chuckling in a deep double voice as he faded away. "Simple killing is a warrior's job. The real dangers of the Fade are preconceptions, careless trust. Pride. Keep your wits about you, mage. True tests…never end."

Wynter looked around warily as she slowly let her magic dissipate, the unspent power refilling her mana pools. She could no longer sense Ratman. No wonder he loves the rat form. He has the personality of a rat. Feeling something shift, Wynter looked down at the staff to see it fading. In fact, everything was fading, even her. Spots filled her sight and, before long, all she could see was darkness.

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**A/N:** I know, I know. Nearly 4000 words for just the Harrowing. I'm crazy. I'm playing this through as I write so as not to miss anything. 20 minutes of gameplay = 2 hours of writing. It's torture. I suppose this chapter is to let you get a feel of Wynter, though nothing much happens. This story is un beta-ed, so I am sorry for any mistakes. Spellcheck can only do so much.

Next chapter, The Great Escape!


	2. The Great Escape

**Wynter's Grasp**

**Chapter 2 – The Great Escape**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything related to the Dragon Age or Final Fantasy franchise. I don't even own most of the plot. In fact, let's just say that if you recognize it, I don't own it.

**Refer to Warning in first Chapter.**

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"Wynter!"

Wynter felt heavy, as if she weighed a thousand pounds. Her thoughts were messy-disjointed, and it took her a few minutes to remember what she was doing before she blacked out. The Harrowing… was she still in the Fade?

"Are you alright? Say something, please!" A man's voice pleaded desperately. A man's voice that was suspiciously familiar. Suspiciously familiar and definitely not part of the Fade.

Forcing her eyes open, she spoke in a cracking voice, as if it were rusty from disuse. "Jowan?"

"I'm glad you're alright. They carried you in this morning, though I hadn't even realized you were gone all night. I've heard of apprentices not coming back from their Harrowing, is it really that dangerous? What was it like?" He questioned after handing her a glass of water and assuring himself that she was alright.

His curiosity was valid, after all no one was allowed to speak of what the Harrowing entails and so apprentice mages went in blind. Bastards. Though she'd gladly break the rules and inform Jowan of what transpired during the ritual, if only to defy the Templars, her voice still hurt and she had a pounding headache. Not the condition anyone wants to be in while recounting a story, so she decided to shorten her tale a bit. "It was…harrowing." Okay, a lot.

"Is that why they don't tell us what it's about? I know we're not supposed to know… but we're friends. Just a little hint, and I'll stop asking, I promise!" He was acting like a whiny little kid who was trying to get his way after being told no. Sadly, this whiny little kid was three years her senior. Even sadder was the fact that he was her only friend in the whole gods forsaken tower. They'd been friends since the day she'd been brought to the tower when she was ten. He'd been appointed to show her around and had treated her normally despite her being an elf. In fact, they had bonded over their penchants for finding and evading trouble, him with his skills of persuasion and innocent face and her with her stealth and enhanced senses. Between the two of them, no templar entered the tower without leaving with a lighter pocket.

"I had to enter the Fade." Wynter added, seeing as she knew he would keep bugging until she gave up at least that much. Swirling the water in the cup and watching as the ice clinked together softly, she hoped that it was just plain water and wasn't lace with any medicine. Gods she hated medicine. Downing the glass in one go, Wynter swallowed quickly before she could spit it back out. Damn, it did have medicine in it, most likely some sort of boiled elfroot water or something. Disgusting.

"Really? That's it?" He asked sceptically. Everyone but the dwarves entered the Fade when they slept, and mages could even remember their time spent there and enter it at will, and so it didn't seem all that bad to him.

Nose scrunched up in disgust, Wynter futilely scrubbed her tongue with her sleeve. Damn concoction had an even worse aftertaste, and no matter what she tried over the years, Wynter still couldn't find anything pleasant strong enough to cover the taste. "And if a demon possesses you, they kill you." She mumbled around her sleeve absentmindedly. _Ewwwwwww…_

"That makes sense. They want to see if you can resist the demon and stop yourself from becoming an abomination." Jowan said contemplatively, before pouting and crossing his arms. "And now you get to move to the nice mages' quarters. I'm stuck here and I don't know when they'll call me for **my** Harrowing."

Rolling her eyes at his display, Wynter stretched. It felt like she had been lying still for days instead of hours. Her muscles were practically screaming at her, though she had to admit, the disgusting potion had begun to work. "Any day now. Probably." Looking at the ice in the empty glass, she weighed her options; cold and gross, or warm and gross. Shrugging her shoulders, she fished out an ice cube and popped it into her mouth. She hated the taste, but cold treats were her favourite, and her mouth would taste bad regardless of what she did. Therefore, the only sane option in her opinion was to, naturally, suck on the ice cube.

"I've been here longer than you have… sometimes I think they just don't want to test me." He uncrossed his arms and slumped in defeat as he said this.

Everything aside, Jowan had been a good friend to her, her only friend since the first ten years of her life were still slightly fuzzy. She had been brought in at age ten with no memory and a whopping amount of magical power and potential, though as the, though as the years went by her memories had returned in flashes and dreams. After seven years of apprenticeship, she was finally a mage, more importantly she was exempt from attending all the classes and lectures the apprentices were forced to endure. Jowan, however, had been in the circle since he was five, and fifteen years later he was still an apprentice. She felt bad for the guy, and offered words of encouragement, though they rang hollow in her ears. "You're just paranoid." Well, from her it was a form of encouragement.

"No, I'm afraid of what will happen to me. You do the Harrowing, the Rite of Tranquility… or you die. That's what happens." His voice was sombre. We both knew there were really only two options, the Harrowing or death. Being made Tranquil was something we believed worse than death. Better to be dead than attempt to live with only half of your being.

"They're not going to kill you, Jowan." The ice was melting slowly in her mouth. Being stuck in this cage full of Templars was awful. Being stuck inside this cage with Templars and no Jowan would be impossible.

"They might not, but the Rite is just as bad, maybe- probably worse. You lose everything that makes you… you. Like Owain, the Tranquil in charge of the storeroom. He's so cold. No, not even cold. There's just… nothing in him. It's like he's dead, but still walking. His eyes, his voice, they're lifeless." Wynter cringed as he explained what the Tranquil were like. Of course she knew what they were like, that was the reason she avoided them in the first place. But to hear him explain it gave her chills. Though she'd had her fair share of nightmares, ones where she was cut down by Templars, her worst nightmares to date had been the ones where she was forced to become Tranquil herself. It was like taking half of your soul, your essence, and destroying it. The worst part is that afterwards, you wouldn't even care. You'd remember your old life, remember your unwillingness, but you wouldn't have the ability to care. On those nights, after waking she'd spend the rest of the night going through strong memories of the childhood she had nearly completely forgotten just so she could feel and reassure herself.

"I think you're reading too much into it." Wynter said, though her lie was transparent. It was obvious she didn't believe her own words; she just did not want to be talking about this anymore.

"I shouldn't waste your time with this. I was supposed to tell you to see Irving as soon as you woke up." Thankfully Jowan had gotten the hint that she was reluctant to continue the conversation.

Popping the other ice cube into her mouth, and again cringing at the taste, Wynter nodded to Jowan before limping out the door. _The quicker I do this, the sooner I can get something to eat. I'm starving._ That stopped her in her tracks. Speed. Speed was important, for it wouldn't be too much longer until her stomach started eating her from the inside out. _An unpleasant thought but_, Wynter shrugged, _what can you do?_ Popping her head back into the door, she sheepishly asked her friend if he knew where exactly in the tower Irving was.

"He said he'd be in his study, upstairs. It's best to not keep him waiting; we can continue talking later." Jowan informed her, a slight smirk shining through his melancholy mood.

Giving a slight wave in thanks, she hurried past two gossiping girls. They had always found some way to criticise her, and she took no small amount of smug joy in the fact that she, with less training, completed her Harrowing before they did. The fact that they were talking about how quick and clean Cullen had mentioned her ritual had been was a plus, though the idiot wasn't that reliable. Honestly, she didn't see why most of the girls continually fawned over him. His face was always red and he could never get out a full sentence without stuttering or tripping over his own words.

Passing through the library, Wynter couldn't help but lift a few coins from the pockets of the apprentices she passed, and even stopped to watch Burt nearly catch his robes on fire while trying to do a simple fire spell. Snickering, she moved on, walking right by a group of children being taught about the Chantry and broke out into light giggles as she heard one apprentice from the back of the library near tears as he tried to make a competent shield. Humming a tune in her head, she strolled up the stairs and kept to the shadows as she skirted around the storeroom, and the Tranquils.

Slipping through the arch, Wynter turned the corner and headed towards Irving's study. Though, honestly, the term corner was kind of misleading. The tower corridors had no real corners, because, well, it was cylindrical in shape. To be perfectly honest, after seven years of residence, Wynter was getting absolutely sick of circles. Circles, also, made her think of the Circle, which was an unpleasant thought in and of itself. Passing by the guest room and her new quarters, Wynter tried to sneak by the Templar on duty, but to her utter misfortune, that Templar was Cullen.

"Oh, um, h-hello. I… uh, am glad to see your Harrowing went smoothly." He stuttered nervously as she walked by, stopping her in her tracks.

Wynter knew she should be polite; after all, he was the one with the pointy sword. She knew this, and yet she still couldn't quite stop herself. Not only did she enjoy mocking them and generally making their lives difficult, but also his stuttering annoyed her, like it always did, and so when she asked, her tone was barely civil. "Why are you stuttering? Again?"

"W-what? Ah, I'm fine, I… ah, I'm just glad you're alright. You know." Eye twitching in annoyance, Wynter listened as he continued stuttering and turned red. She really didn't see why the girls would fawn over him. He was a blubbering idiot, and she herself just could not see the appeal. Sighing, Wynter tried to calm down. She was usually pretty good at pretending to be innocent and polite to those around her while secretly mocking them, but today just wasn't a good day. Still, she figured it was best to end this conversation quickly and on a light note so she could go see what Irving wanted.

"I thought all Templars liked killing mages." Well now, that was definitely not polite. She blamed her stomach.

"Maybe some, but not me. It's my duty to hunt down apostate mages, but… I do so with a heavy heart." Cullen sighed, as if it were a terrible burden.

_And I'm actually a dwarf; the pointy ears are from being yanked around as a child._ "I need to go." This time she didn't even try to hide the annoyance from her voice.

"Ah-ah yes, maybe we can talk another time." Plastering a fake smile on her face, she nodded condescendingly and finished her trek to the end of the hall. Curiosity peaked at the loud voices she could hear inside, Wynter strode into the office and watched as Greagoir argued with Irving, while an unknown man stood watching the two.

"Many have already gone to Ostagar, Wynne, Uldred, and many other Senior Enchanters. We've committed enough of our men to this war effort." Greagoir thundered.

"Your men? I didn't know you felt so much kinship with the Circle. Or are you just afraid of letting too many mages out of Chantry supervision, where they can actually use their Maker given powers?" Irving mocked, his tone slightly condescending.

"Why you-"

"Gentlemen, please. Irving, someone is here to see you." The strange man interrupted Greagoir, causing all three of them to turn their attention to Wynter.

Blushing slightly under the scrutiny of the three men, Wynter cleared her throat. "You sent for me?"

"Ah, if it isn't our newest sister in the Circle. Come child." Irving said pleasantly as he beckoned her forward.

"This is…?" The strange man asked, curiosity lacing his voice. He was dressed for battle, with a sword and a dagger strapped to his back, and yet Wynter was sure he wasn't a templar. Which begged the question, what exactly was he doing here?

"Yes this is she." Irving replied, sharing a glance with the stranger.

"Well, Irving. You're obviously busy. We'll continue discussing this at a later time." Greagoir interjected, irked at being ignored. Without even waiting for a response, he threw her a glare as he strode out of the study.

"Of course. Well, then… where was i? Oh, yes. This is Duncan, of the Grey Wardens" Irving introduced the man at his side.

_A Grey Warden? Truly?_ Wynter's eyebrows rose in curiosity as she looked him over again with interest. _How interesting. _"Pleased to meet you."

"You've heard about the war brewing to the South, I expect? Duncan is recruiting mages to join the King's army at Ostagar." Irving explained, watching her closely.

She had heard the rumours. Being cooped up all of the time in a tower turned many of her fellow mages into terrible gossips. What Wynter wanted to know was why Irving was telling her this. She was a newly Harrowed mage, a veritable nobody in the tower. "Why?"

"The Darkspawn threat grows in the South. We need all the help we can get." Duncan replied gravely. It was the duty of the Grey Wardens to eliminate the threat the Darkspawn posed the land. With the way he held himself, it seemed being a Warden was a great burden.

Wynter was about to probe for more information since the men seemed to be unusually forthcoming, but a growl from her stomach reminded her she hadn't eaten since the day before. "That's all you wanted to tell me?" She asked, trying to hurry the conversation along.

"Of course not, I wished to congratulate you on a successful end to last night's ordeal. The Harrowing is behind you. Your phylactery was sent to Denerim. You are officially a mage within the Circle of Magi." Irving replied, smiling kindly at her.

"My leash, you mean." Wynter couldn't help but state bitterly. It was a real dampener on her mood, being reminded that the Templars would always be able to track her no matter where she went. Duncan shot her a look of pity; even he seemed to think it demeaning and unfair.

"Now child, it's not that bad," Irving chuckled. "I present you with your robes, your staff, and a ring bearing the Circle's insignia. Wear them proudly, for you have earned them." Wynter accepted the items with a quiet thank you. She was still thinking about her phylactery.

"It goes without saying that you shall not discuss the Harrowing with those who have not yet undertaken the Rite. Now, then…take your time to rest, or study in the library. The day is yours." Smiling innocently, Wynter thought back to her conversation with Jowan. Ah, well. It was a stupid rule anyways.

"I will do that." _After I raid the kitchens, of course._

"I will return to my quarters." Duncan stated tiredly.

"Would you be so kind as to escort Duncan back to his room, child?" Irving requested.

Hunger aside, Grey Wardens were different. Out of the ordinary things were rarely experienced while she was stuck in a structured and mundane ritualistic tower. That made them _interesting_. "It would be my pleasure."

"The guest quarters are on the East side of this floor, by the library. Now if you'll both excuse me, I have matters to discuss. With Gregoire." Irving explained, voice becoming slightly exasperated towards the end.

Brow quirked, Wynter began to lead Duncan to his room. Of course she knew where it was, she'd snuck into it to snoop around enough times. Although she was itching to question the man about his experiences and duties, the Warden looked exhausted, and so with no little amount of difficulty she delivered him to his room in silence. Waving away his thanks, she shut the door behind her on her way out…

…and promptly ran into Jowan. Regaining her footing and covering her sore nose, Wynter glared up at her friend as he sighed in relief. "I'm glad I caught up to you. Are you done talking to Irving?"

"Going through another personal crisis?" She snarked, gently poking her tender nose and wincing.

"Very funny," He deadpanned. "I need to talk to you. Do you remember what we discussed this morning?" Jowan continued in a whisper, leaning closer so she could hear. Which was completely unnecessary, what with her elven hearing.

"Why are you whispering? It looks very suspicious." Wynter asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Shhhh! I just want to make sure we're not over heard." He looked around the empty halls nervously. "We should go somewhere else. I don't feel safe talking here."

"You seem a little on edge." An understatement, really. He seemed as skittish as a hare, or at least what she imagined a hare would act like. Having only read about them in books, it was hard for her to be sure.

"I've been… troubled. I'll explain. Come with me, please." He pleaded and looked around once again before walking down the corridor, his pace hurried. With a sigh of resignation, Wynter followed behind him, tentatively rubbing her nose again as they ended up in a corner of the chapel. "We should be safe here," He said as he went to stand next to a Chantry initiate.

Wynter looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "Safe? In the chapel? The Templars' favourite haunt? Seriously?"

"We can see the door from here. If anyone comes, we'll change the subject." The initiate said reassuringly.

_Which begs the question, what exactly are we going to talk about that requires such privacy?_ Wynter looked at Jowan suspiciously. "Jowan… what's going on?" She asked slowly.

"A few months ago, I told you that I… met a girl. This is Lily." Jowan said, waving his hand towards her nervously.

Oh. _Oh._ "Ah," Wynter looked between her friend and his girlfriend, both of whom wore nervous expressions on their face. She had honestly thought he was just using it as an excuse to sneak out at night to practice magic by himself. "I was beginning to doubt her existence."

"I was afraid to tell anyone. Lily was becoming a Chantry priest, she's taken her vows. Lily's been given to the Chantry. She is not allowed to have… relations with men. If anyone finds out… we'll both be in trouble." He seemed sincere, and hurt, like a kicked puppy. It was all very sappy and romantic, secret night time rendezvous between lovers, but she figured he had more to say and wanted to hurry him along.

"Did you bring me here just to talk about your affair?" She asked sceptically.

"I wish that was the only thing I needed to talk about. Remember when I said I didn't think they were going to let me do my Harrowing? I was right. They're… they're going to make me Tranquil. They'll take everything I am from me; my dreams, hopes, fears…" He looked at Lily, heartbroken. "My love for Lily. All gone…"

"That's…" _Horrible. Awful. Sick._ "That sounds terrible." Wynter settled on, stomach twisting at the thought. What the hell did he _do_ to warrant something like that?

"They'll extinguish my humanity! I'll just be a husk, breathing and existing, but not truly living." Jowan said, his voice heavy with fear.

"Why would they do this to you?"

"There's a rumour about me. People think I'm a blood mage. They think making me a Circle mage will endanger everyone." She had heard the rumours of course, but she had brushed them off as just that; rumours. But now, something in his voice…

"And are they right about that?" Wynter asked curiously, wondering if he'd even tell her the truth if they were. She hoped he would; those years of friendship had to count for something.

"Of course not!" He denied vehemently. "But it's not safe here for me anymore. I need to escape; I need to destroy my phylactery so that they can't track me anymore. Me and Lily need to get out of here, and we need your help." Desperation crept into his voice as Lily held his hand, trying to comfort him.

"Give us your word that you will help and we will tell you what we intend." Lily said, her voice wavering between a demand and a plea.

This was… big. She'd dreamed about escaping many, many times, but to actually do it… Wynter was uncertain. The chances of not getting caught were slim, very slim, but the real question was, would she be able to live with herself if she let Jowan be turned into a Tranquil? He was the only friend she's had for the past seven years, and although she would go so far as to say he was her best friend, his friendship did mean something to her. She knew he was hiding something, but she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, it was the least she could do. Maybe he knew who the blood mage really was and was sworn to secrecy, or maybe he just really needed to pee.

Looking Lily in the eye and frowning slightly, she spoke. "You have my word, Lily."

"Thank you." Lily breathed, her relief evident. "We will never forget this."

Wynter crossed her arms over her chest and sighed in frustration at the mess she was getting herself into. "Yes, well. This had better be a _damn_good plan."

OoOoOoOo

Screw damn _good _plan, this was a damn _stupid _plan. Sure, for the most part, the plan was fool proof. But they were a trio of fools, so that point was moot. Oh, if only she hadn't given her _word_. She may be a sarcastic, sneaky, thief, but unfortunately she was a sarcastic, sneaky, thief with _morals_. True, her morals may be somewhat more twisted than the average person, but the fact was that she still had them, and therefore couldn't in good conscience go back on her promise.

Step one; get a rod of fire from Owain. Pretty straightforward. Or it would be, except for two teensy weensy little problems. One, Owain was a Tranquil. She wasn't able to sneak around this time; she had to actually go talk to the guy. Ugh. Second, he wouldn't give her the rod unless she got a permission slip signed. Luckily, she had helped Senior Enchanter Leorah with the spider infestation in the caves, and so the Enchanter owed her one. With permission slip signed, she had to go talk with Owain, again. He bought her lie about needing it to light fireplaces, and so step one was complete.

Step Two; use the rod to break the lock on the two doors in the repository and destroy Jowan's phylactery. Again, an easy enough step, until you count the fact that only one of the doors would open, forcing them to go the long way. The long way filled with guards, sentinels to be exact. And the ugliest giant lizards she had ever seen. So of course we had to fight our way through, though it was quite amusing to watch Lily bitch slap the things.

_Which brings us to now._ They had been rushing through the underground corridors for almost an hour, and had ended up in the repository. There were various magical items strewn about, each radiating with powerful or old magic, sometimes both. The repository was a dead end, however, and they still hadn't destroyed Jowan's phylactery. Part of Wynter was anxious to be done with step two, but mostly she was dreading step three. Fighting their way out of the tower was basically suicide, and yet, here she was.

"There has to be another way into the phylactery chamber." Lily said while rubbing her red hands.

Looking around the large room, Jowan had an idea. "The repository's pretty big. Why don't we split up so we can cover more ground faster?"

"Whatever." Wynter shrugged as she strolled past the two and made her way to the far wall. Running her hand along the shelf, she walked forward slowly, feeling not only several layers of dust but also the power. Wynter had figured out as a child that if she concentrated on this with magic, she could sort of… experience them in a different way. While most mages would be able to sense the power of a particularly strong mage, Wynter was able to see, to feel. A person's magic was a reflection of their willpower and was tied to their emotions, which was why, in the Rite of Tranquility, a person's links to both were severed. Using this reasoning, Wynter figured out how to not only sense how powerful a mage was, but, with enough concentration, she could also see the outline of their magic surrounding them. Though people could lie, they weren't able to fully supress their true emotions on the subject. That is how she was able to tell that Ratman wasn't what he seemed, and that Jowan was still hiding something from her. From what she could tell, not too many people in the tower could sense things like she could, and even fewer were able to see it.

At the moment though, she was only feeling the power of the objects. Some things she came across, like a sinister looking figurine, were imbued with so much evil that it twisted her stomach. Other items, like a peculiar looking hair clip, radiated strongly with nature magic. Propped up against the wall was a tall, blackened staff, the wood twisted and tapering to a sinister point. Looking closely, she realized that the staff hadn't always been black; there were a few spots where the original mahogany shone through. Picking it up and giving it an experimental twirl, Wynter was able to deduce that, from the feel and weight, it was probably made of Heartwood. The staff radiated with darkness, the evil taint left over from its previous owner, but… biting her lip, Wynter sheathed the staff on her back. It was more powerful than the one Irving gave her, and it'd be useful if they ran into any more guards.

Continuing on her way, Wynter moved to look at a shelf full of jewellery. There were rings of garnet and ruby, diamond earrings, and various necklaces made of the finest crystals and jewels. One particular necklace caught her eye. It was a beautiful teardrop shaped sapphire hanging on a shiny silver chain. The sapphire was large and was a deep blue in color at the base. Though what Wynter found peculiar was that the teardrop faded from deep blue to a bright red at the top. Picking it up, Wynter marvelled at the feel of the piece. It was cool in her hands, and yet she could feel warmth in it, like when she used her ice spells. The power felt old, really, old, yet unlike the Heartwood staff it wasn't tainted. Looking closer at the necklace, she was astonished to see a small blue flame flickering within the gem. Mesmerized, Wynter shook her head quickly and turned to Jowan as he called her, unconsciously stuffing the necklace into her pouch. Following him to a statue of a dog, and looking at the bookcase he had moved, she quickly gathered what they were going to do.

Using the fire rod with the statue, the power behind the fire was magnified, and the weak wall crumbled. Walking forward, Wynter sighed in relief. They finally made it to the chamber.

"We must find Jowan's phylactery quickly." Lily exclaimed as she began searching the shelves.

"It's a pity they've taken mine to Denerim." Wynter pouted. A chance to destroy her leash was not one she would have passed up.

"Would you destroy yours too if it were here?" Jowan asked curiously as he joined Lily.

"Of course. I'd be able to escape too." Wynter sighed wistfully. If only.

"You still can," Lily said reassuringly. "I don't think they'd be able to catch you out there. You're clever. Not like me…"

Running his hand through his hair in frustration, Jowan put another vial back in its place. "Let's just find my phylactery and get out of here."

Walking over to the desk in the corner, Wynter began reading the labels on the vials that sat in a beige case. _Gordon, Perry, Lucy, Castor…Aha!_ "Found it!" Wynter yelled as she plucked the vial off of the desk and handed it to the ecstatic Jowan.

"That's my phylactery! You found it! I can't believe this tiny vial stands between me and freedom. So small… so fragile…" Jowan's voice seemed far away, mesmerized by the tiny vial. Slowly, so as to savour the moment, he opened his fingers one by one and let the vial crash on the floor. "Finally. Freedom."

_Lucky bastard._ "Let's hurry it up. The sooner we're out of here, the better." Wynter groaned in resignation as she followed them out of the repository. Step three. _I've got a very bad feeling about this._

Exiting the basement, Wynter followed Jowan up the stairs, only to run into him a second time when he stopped dead in his tracks. Peering around him she groaned. Waiting for them at the top of the stairs were not only Irving and Greagoir, but also half a dozen Templars. For some reason, Wynter didn't think they were there to see them off. _Of all the things that could go wrong…_

"So what you said was true, Irving." Greagoir said, his voice like steel.

Wynter bit her cheek and mumbled. "I knew it. I just _knew_ this would end badly. Fool proof my _ass_."

"Greagoir!" Lily paled.

"An initiate conspiring with a blood mage. You're right. She seems shocked but in her own mind, not under the influence of blood magic. This Chantry initiate betrayed us. This will not go unpunished." Greagoir stated with disdain.

"I'm disappointed in you. If you would have told me what they were planning…" Irving sighed. Wynter winced, not having to see his magical aura to understand just how disappointed he was.

"You don't care for the mages! You just bow to the Chantry's every whim!" Jowan yelled, incensed.

Wynter blinked and took a step away from him. His aura was flickering dangerously, like that of a cornered animal. He was going to do something rash. "The First Enchanter does what he can to protect us." And it was true. Though she hated the Circle and the Templars, Irving had always been fair and had stood up to Greagoir on many different matters. One thing her research had shown her was that, sadly, First Enchanters like Irving were the exceptions, not the rule.

"Enough! As knight commander I sentence this blood mage to death. And this initiate has scorned her vows. Take her away." Greagoir's men started forward at his command.

"No!" Jowan shouted, pulling out a dagger. "I won't let you take her!" He thrust his dagger into the palm of his hand, blood spraying all over him. With a yell, he thrust his hands forward, the blood magic striking all those in front of them.

Ignoring Jowan's pleas for Lily to forgive him, Wynter rushed forward and knelt beside Irving. Hesitantly shaking his shoulder, she let out the breath she hadn't even realized she was holding in when he moaned, struggling to his hands and knees.

"Are you alright?" Irving wheezed. He let out a sigh as she nodded her head. "Greagoir?"

Grunting as he got to his feet, Greagoir stared in disbelief. "I knew it… blood magic. But to overcome so many… I never thought him capable of such power…"

Wynter couldn't believe it. She knew he had been hiding something. She knew he had been acting suspicious… but this… "He lied to me! He looked me in the eyes and told me he wasn't a blood mage!" Wynter muttered to herself, disbelief and anger coloring her voice. It wasn't so much that he was a blood mage that angered her, but that he would lie to her about it while asking her for help.

"None of us expected this," Irving stated, as Wynter helped him to his feet. "Are you alright Greagoir?

"As good as can be expected, given the circumstances. If you would have let me act sooner, none of this would have happened! Now we have a blood mage on the loose and no way to track him down!" Greagoir furiously stated.

Wynter blinked. Well _damn_. "That's right, Jowan destroyed his phylactery." _This does not bode well for me._

"Where is the girl!" Greagoir demanded, looking around.

"I-I am here sir" Lily stepped forward shakily.

"You helped a blood mage! Look at all he's hurt!" Lily flinched at his tone. The other Templars were strewn across the floor, moaning in pain from their various injuries.

She didn't really know Lily; in fact she just met her today. That coupled with the fact that it was partly her fault that she's in this predicament in the first place, and Wynter should have kept quiet. She didn't particularly care, but… she cared for Greagoir "Lily didn't know Jowan was a blood mage either," Wynter's voice lowered to a mutter that only Irving, who stood beside her, could make out. "Still can't believe the bastard lied to me. Seven flipping years of friendship and he _lies_ to my face. Asshole." Irving put calming hand on her arm.

"You've been a friend, but you needn't defend me any longer. Knight-Commander, I was… wrong. I was an accomplice to a blood mage, and I will accept any punishment." Lily said resolutely.

"Take her away." Greagoir commanded. The Templars that had managed to make it to their feet immediately apprehended Lily and lead her away. "And you!" He swirled around and glared at me. "You know what the phylactery chamber is for, what the repository chamber is for. Some magics, some items, need to be locked away." Wynter flushed with embarrassment before scowling. She had felt the power in some of the items, and knew they were safer kept under lock and key. This didn't mean she accepted the way he was speaking to her as if she were a delinquent child.

"Did you take anything important from the repository?" Irving asked calmly, no traces of anger to be found in his voice.

Wynter bit her lip and passed Irving the black staff before looking at her feet, a braid falling to dangle in front of her eyes. "Yes, this staff, and you can have it back if you like." _It was making my skin crawl anyways._

"Hmph. Some honesty, at last. But your antics have made a mockery of this Circle! Ah… what are we to do with you?" Greagoir snorted in frustration. He was _not_ having a good day.

Wynter blew the braid out of her face and looked up at him through her lashes defiantly with bright purple eyes. "I had no idea he was a blood mage," Wynter started_. Though I probably wouldn't have turned him in had I known…_

"And you think this excuses you? You helped a blood mage escape! You broke-" Greagoir interrupted Wynter, only to get interrupted by Duncan himself.

"Knight-Commander, if I may," Duncan spoke as he walked towards them. "I'm not only looking for mages to aid the army, I am also recruiting for the Grey Wardens."

"Duncan, this mage has aided a maleficar and has shown a blatant disregard for the rules." Wynter frowned. Irving was one of the three people in the tower whom she had any sort of respect for at all, but he really wasn't earning himself any brownie points with those comments, true or not.

"It takes a special kind of person to risk everything for a friend," Duncan placed his hands on her shoulders reassuringly. "I would make her a Grey Warden."

Wynter blinked. That would be… _interesting_. She'd be away from the Circle, no longer under its thumb, and she wouldn't die by the hand of a templar. Fighting Darkspawn was really a small price to pay considering all she stood to gain. She'd actually get to experience things instead of having to read about them in a book. She was absolutely thrilled.

"No!" Greagoir thundered, his face turning red. "I refuse to let this go unpunished!"

Wynter frowned at the Templar and snorted. He was _not_ going to ruin her chances. "If the Grey Wardens will have me, I will gladly go."

"Greagoir, mages are needed. This mage is needed. Worse things plague this world than blood mages, you know that. I will take this young mage under my wing and will be held fully responsible for her actions." Duncan pushed. Though she was slightly uncomfortable with the amount of trust he was putting in her, she was thankful as well.

"A blood mage escapes, and his accomplice is not only unpunished but is rewarded by becoming a Grey Warden? Do rules mean nothing anymore?" Greagoir asked in disbelief.

"Enough." Irving stated firmly. "We have no more say in the matter."

Wynter glanced up at Duncan. "So I am to be a Grey Warden?"

"Yes. Be proud, child. You are luckier than you know." Irving replied. Though she was still a little sore from him trying to dissuade Duncan earlier, she figured it was best to leave on _somewhat_ friendly terms. _It would also suck to have Duncan change his mind because I wasn't polite._

"Thank you for everything, First Enchanter." And she _was_ grateful. Maybe not as grateful as she should be, but she did appreciate everything he had done for her. She had been clothed, taught, fed, and treated like any other student by this man. Her unknown past and heritage hadn't affected his opinion of her whatsoever.

"Come. Your new life awaits." Duncan said, steering her out of the room.

OoOoOoOo

An hour later and Wynter had her backpack filled with everything she wanted to bring. Hiking the pack higher onto her back and readjusting the straps, she picked up her staff and raced towards the front door where Duncan was waiting for her. Eyes wide as she stepped outside the tower for the first time since she was brought there, Wynter looked all around her, trying to take everything in.

Duncan gave a small smile at her excitement and childlike curiosity. The boat ride back to the mainland was uneventful, and it didn't really take that long, but Wynter breathed a sigh of relief when she finally stepped back onto solid ground. Having grown up in the tower, the most water she had ever been in was a tub. She was in no hurry to jump into a pool of water to see if she would sink or swim, as her money was on the former.

"We will be travelling south, to Ostagar, a fortress built by the ancient Tevinter bordering the Korcari Wilds." Duncan said as they started down the dirt path away from Lake Calenhad, the Circle of Magi tower fading into the distance.

Wynter stopped him before he could continue his mini lecture. "That's really interesting and all, but I have an important question, if you don't mind."

"Oh? What is it?" Duncan asked, intrigued.

Wynter eyed him seriously, as her stomach grumbled again. She _still_ hadn't eaten. "I was wondering whether or not you were planning on sharing your apple cookies."

Duncan glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"…I can smell them from your pack."

OoOoOoOo

A/N: Gah. This one's even longer, over 6500 words. I figured that most mages wouldn't be allowed outside the tower, even on the island, in case they tried to escape. Coupled with the fact that she doesn't remember much of her past, and you got a brand-spanking-new world for her to explore. Despite the fact that she has read countless books, this fact will make her naïve in some circumstances. Next chapter, Ostagar.


	3. Ostagar

**Wynter's Grasp**

**Chapter 3 – Ostagar**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything related to the Dragon Age or Final Fantasy franchise. I don't even own most of the plot. In fact, let's just say that if you recognize it, I don't own it.

**Refer to chapter 1 for warnings.**

A/N: Right. It was mentioned that FFX and DAO are two different worlds, but if you think about it, they have a lot of similarities. Care to guess what those are? I'm still debating on how much I want to take from FFX, but something in one of the previous chapters has already set things in motion for the crossover part.

I was uploading a couple of oneshots and I spied this story. It looked lonely so I decided to spend some time with it. I also fixed some things in the first two chapters.

OoOoOoOo

Wynter strolled casually across the bridge after being welcomed by the king, not bothering to keep up with Duncan. Being given free reign of the camp for the time being, Wynter was itching to explore. Tossing a coin pouch she snatched from a templar up in the air and catching it, she covered her wide-eyed curiosity with one of her usual smirks. This… was going to be fun.

"This place hasn't seen such bustle in centuries, I'll wager. Need a hand getting anywhere?" Startled out of her musings, Wynter looked around to see that she had made it to the end of the bridge. It was the soldier standing guard to her right who had spoken.

"Nah, I'm fine." Wynter replied, smirk still in place. "I'll probably just wander around for now and take it all in."

"Good luck to you, then. It's not that hard to get around once you get used to it." The soldier nodded amiably as she continued by.

Coming to a junction in the path, Wynter debated briefly on which direction to take before shrugging her shoulders and strolling down the right one. If it were the right path then it couldn't be the wrong path, right?

Wrong.

Not even five minutes after turning down the right fork, Wynter came upon the Circle's camp. Two Templars stood guard at the entrance while a few mages stood in the middle of the large purple tents, swaying as their magic swirled around them. Finally away from the Circle and its inhabitants after years of imprisonment, and the first people she walks into during her newfound freedom are the ones she had tried so hard to leave behind. Wynter mockingly threw them a sloppy salute as she walked by and smiled satisfyingly when she saw them grip their weapons tighter out of the corner of her eye. Oh, how she loved making their lives difficult.

OoOoOoOo

Wynter stumbled out of the food vendor's tent, a light scowl painting her lips. The food supplies Duncan had given her for the journey to Ostagar had run out a few days ago and she had been forced to learn how to fish. Duncan had mentioned that it would be easier to hunt something big like a deer and stock up for the rest of the journey, but embarrassingly enough, for an elf her skills with the bow were non-existent, as were her foraging skills. She just couldn't for the life of her tell the difference between a poisonous mushroom and a non-poisonous one; in her eyes, both mushrooms looked like the same damn thing. Not wanting her to ever be without a means of acquiring food, he had set a few hours aside to show her how to make a rod and catch fish.

After a few hours of the little bastards eating the bait and escaping the hook, Wynter had finally caught enough fish for the both of them, while Duncan had returned with a sac full of berries, nuts, and edible roots. Needless to say, those did not last long and Wynter's pack was considerably lighter. Wanting to rectify this, she had asked for directions and made her way towards the food tent.

She was not scowling because the food was ridiculously overpriced. In fact, she didn't pay a bronze for supplies. No, what had her blood boiling was the fact that when she had entered the tent the vendor had been yelling angrily at an elven servant.

It wasn't really her fault that the vendor found himself suddenly having the worst of luck. Nor was it her fault that that the butchers knife in his hand suddenly froze over and gave him frost bite. Her frown slowly turned upside down as she patted the pouch on her side. In her opinion it was his own fault that she walked out of the store with a full coin purse and a heavy food pouch. He really should learn to be more professional.

OoOoOoOo

As she walked over to the Quartermaster's stall, Wynter couldn't help but notice two people standing to her left. One of them was a female soldier; her face was the epitome of cool disgust. The man in front of her had a bow and quiver full of arrows strapped to his back, and seemed to be trying to persuade the woman of something. As she got closer, she couldn't help but role her eyes at the man's less than subtle flirting. She didn't seem to be the only one who found the man sleazy, as the soldier also rolled her eyes and walked away in the middle of the man's pathetic speech.

Walking passed the sleazy male and ignoring his attempts at conversation, she walked round the displays before jumping slightly as a voice yelled out to her.

"You there! Elf! Where's my armour? And why are you dressed so preposterously?" A man in a leather vest over a plaid shirt stalked over to her and scowled.

Narrowing her eyes, Wynter sarcastically asked, "I don't know, maybe it's because I'm here to be a Grey Warden?"

"You're… oh! Yes, of course." The man paled noticeably. Curiously enough, he then began to stumble over his words nervously as he tried to apologize. Apparently the word of a Grey Warden carried more weight than she had originally thought. "I…please forgive my rudeness! There are so many elves running about, and I've been waiting for…it's simply been so hectic! I never thought…P-please pardon my terrible manners! I… I am just the quartermaster, a simple man, no one special…"

The quartermaster seemed drawn and tired. There were purple rings under his eyes and it didn't look like he had shaved in days. Still, Wynter couldn't just ignore the way he treated elves. It was, understandably, a sore spot for her. "Perhaps you should treat your servants more kindly. Maybe then they'd actually be willing to help you."

"Ye-yes, of course. You're very right. Did you… come for some supplies, perhaps?" Though still unwilling to completely let the man off the hook, Wynter was in fact looking to spend some of the Templar's coin.

"Just what kind of supplies do you sell?"

"Arms and armour, for the most part. It's for the king's men, but you Grey Wardens can buy what you need for a modest price." The quartermaster looked more comfortable speaking about his job, though he hesitated slightly before adding, "I also have some…goods on the side I can provide. Strictly off the record, of course. To keep morale up, you understand."

Smirking at his weak attempt at getting back into her good graces, Wynter browsed his wares curiously. She couldn't tell the difference between the different types of armours, and she knew she'd just skewer herself on one of the swords. Looking through his selection of weapons, she sighed, knowing it was too much to ask for him to have staves in stock. In the end, she decided to pick up a health poultice and a few lesser lyrium potions. As she was getting ready to leave, something caught her attention in the corner of her eye.

_No Way._

Wynter quickly backtracked to the item at the bottom of the display and pulled it out. "How much for these?"

OoOoOoOo

Wynter left the quartermaster quite satisfied with her purchases. On top of the poultice and potions, she managed to also stretch her stolen money enough to buy a new set of clothes and a dagger. Instead of her long mages robe, she was now sporting a pair of dark brown pants tucked into soft shin-high tan leather boots. Her beige short-sleeved tunic was a bit too long, coming down almost to her knees, and was held in place with a dark blue leather belt she had found in the Circle's store room. Her various pouches hung from her belt, and to top it all off she had purchased a dark green long coat with leaves and vines embroidered on it in silver thread.

Though this new outfit offered her about the same amount of protection against blades as her robes did, it was much more comfortable and practical. Not only would it better protect her from the elements, but the lack of a skirt would make it much easier to sneak around unnoticed and to make a hasty escape. For the likes of her, Wynter could not understand why mages insisted on traipsing through wooded areas in long skirts. Not only would it make it hard for you to keep your footing, but the branches and rubble would catch and tear the bottom of the robe. _Very_ impractical.

As she walked farther away from the quartermaster, the barking sounds she had heard since entering the camp started to get louder. Curiosity getting the better of her, she followed the sounds to an enclosure in the middle of the camp. Looking between the picketed logs made into a makeshift fence she could just barely make out a dark form huddled in one of the corners.

"Hmmm, this isn't good at all. I'd hate to have to put an end to such a promising member of the breed." Startled, Wynter backed away from the fence and glanced at the man next to her.

Eyeing her thoughtfully, a plan slowly began to form in the Kennel Master's mind. "You don't look like one of the king's soldiers…are you the new Warden by any chance? If you are I could really use your help."

"Is it normal for Grey Wardens to receive help requests from complete strangers?" Wynter asked wryly. "Because I'm starting to sense a pattern here." First the deserter in the cage had asked her for food in exchange for a key, now the Kennel Master was asking her for a favour.

The Kennel Master chuckled before introducing himself. "Apologies, Warden. My name is Cairm. I am the Kennel Master here at Ostagar. If you're not too busy at the moment, I really could use some help."

Wynter sighed ruefully at the fact that he didn't dispute her observations. "What is it that you need?"

Cairm's smile slid off his face as he adopted a worried look. Stepping up to the fence, he motioned at the figure inside. "This dog is a mabari. Smart breed, and strong too. His owner was killed in the last battle against the darkspawn, and the poor hound swallowed some of their poisonous blood." Cairm rubbed his neck as he sighed. "I have some medicine in mind that might help, but even with the medicine on hand I wouldn't be able to give it to him without him muzzled first."

"A mabari?" Wynter stared at the dog with new interest. She had never seen one before, though she had read about them. One thing that she remembered was that dogs were very loyal. A faithful friend that would always be there for you; Wynter wished she'd had one of those growing up. "Just how smart is a mabari anyway? It doesn't seem right to take them into battle."

"Ah," Cairm started, "that's where you'd be wrong. Centuries ago, a mage bred them to be smart enough to think and understand what their told. Now, they can't think up battle strategies or anything like that, but the can remember and carry out complex orders. That's what makes them the most valuable dogs in the world." Cairm sighed in resignation. "Of course, their unwavering loyalty means that they generally imprint to one master, which makes it next to impossible to re-imprint them. Though, of course, re-imprinting this fella won't be an issue if I can't give him the medicine. Will you help?"

Wynter glanced from the muzzle in Cairm's hand to the huddled mabari in the pen. Though he was sick, he was still a very large dog. A very large dog with very large teeth. "Though I'd hate for him to die, what makes you think I'd be able to get that muzzle on him? And just why can't you?"

"It's because you're a Grey Warden, of course. Or, at least you will be soon." Cairm stated matter-of-factly. "All Wardens are immune to the darkspawn taint; while regular people like me stand to suffer a very painful death if infected. The most you have to worry about are a few tooth marks."

Wynter bit her lip as she debated, but her choice was ultimately made as she heard the painful growling whimpers get louder. "All right, all right. I'll give it a shot." Taking the muzzle from him, she dropped her pack on the ground and shoved her staff into his hands. "Hold onto this for me, will ya?"

"Here's the key. Go into the pen and let him smell you. We'll know right away if he'll respond by the way he asks." Cairm watched hopefully as she unlocked the gates and slipped in before muttering, "I hope this works. I would really hate to have to put a dog like him down."

Closing the gate behind her, Wynter finally had a clear view of the mabari. Under the layer of dirt and blood that covered him, she could faintly make out what looked like a black coat. Growling warningly, the mabari's shackles began to rise. Inching forward, Wynter stopped a foot away from the injured animal.

Sniffing the air, the mabari quieted down and lay in the dirt, looking up at Wynter with large green eyes. Surprised at his behaviour, Wynter gazed back at his dark green orbs, and was convinced that this was no mere beast. She could see pain in the mabari's eyes, for the dog was very sick, but what really struck her was the intelligence she could see. It seems Cairm wasn't exaggerating when he extoled the mabari's virtues.

Bending down slowly, Wynter reached towards the mabari with the muzzle, making him flinch. Humming reassuringly, she slowly fastened the muzzle on the dog as he growled weakly, though didn't resist. Finishing quickly, and without any teeth marks, Wynter once again opened the gate before locking it behind her.

"Well done! Now I can treat the dog properly; poor fellow." Cairm exclaimed in relief as he handed Wynter back her staff. "Come to think of it, are you heading into the Wilds any time soon?"

Wynter dusted off her pack before swinging once again onto her shoulder. "No idea. Why?"

"Well," Cairm started thoughtfully, trying to think of the most potent medicine he could give to the dog. "There's a particular herb I could use to improve the mabari's chances. It's a flower that grows in the swamps here, if I remember correctly. If you happen to find one, I could use it in the medicine. It's very distinctive: all white with a blood red center."

"What would happen if he didn't get the flower?"

"Let's just say if he doesn't get it, chances are he'll need to be put down." Cairm exhaled deeply. "I'd go get it myself, of course, but the Wilds are off limits to non-soldiers. And as much as I don't like it, I have many more hounds than just this one to take care of."

Another plaintive whimper could be heard from the kennel as pain filled green eyes popped into her mind. "Where exactly in the wilds would I be able to find this flower?" Wynter sighed in resignation. She'd never be able to forgive herself if she did go into the Wilds and returned without the flower.

Cairm smiled. It was always nice to meet another who cared about man's best friend. "It usually grows in the dead wood that collects at the edge of ground pools. There should be plenty of them around this time of year seeing as this is the rainy season in the Wilds."

"I'll see if I can find one." Wynter started walking away before pausing. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to know where a Grey Warden called Alistair would be, would you? I just remembered Duncan had asked me to find him." She sheepishly asked.

"Alistair?" Cairm asked thoughtfully. "Can't say that I know him, but I do believe I overheard someone saying he was sent to deliver a message. Try looking on the east side of camp."

OoOoOoOo

After ending up on the northern edge of camp, Wynter had stopped another Warden and asked him where to find Alistair. His directions had her picking her way through the bedrolls full of wounded men and women in the makeshift hospital. Stepping around an empty bed, Wynter jumped in surprise as a hand grabbed her ankle. "Shit!"

Following the hand to an injured soldier to her left, Wynter clutched her chest over her rapidly beating heart. _So much for elven senses. I've been acting like a dull human._ Shaking her foot until the man let go, she shot a quizzical look at the embarrassed nurse.

"You…you need to convince them! We've got to run! The darkspawn are coming!" The soldier exclaimed through wracking coughs as the exasperated nurse gently pushed him back to his bedroll.

Wynter cocked an eyebrow quizzically. "Why do you say that?"

"I saw them!" The soldier raved, swinging his uninjured arm around and nearly hitting the nurse. "We're all gonna die!"

The nurse shushed him again before turning towards Wynter, face slightly flushed in embarrassment. "I apologize, Warden. Jethro's been like this ever since they found him alone in the Wilds, ranting about death and darkspawn."

"What exactly is wrong with him?" Wynter asked curiously. She had, after all, entertained the idea of braving the Wilds for a flower.

"Truthfully?" The nurse frowned. "Aside from his wounds, we're not certain. His blood is without darkspawn taint. From what we can gather, he's just traumatized… and terrified."

Jethro quieted down before fixing his eyes on Wynters'. "You…you can feel it, can't you? They taint the land, turn it black and sick. You can feel it inside!" He began to laugh hysterically. "They'll come out of the forest and spread! Like caterpillars devouring a tree, they'll swallow us whole!"

Inching away from the soldier, Wynter couldn't help the foreboding shiver that went down her spine. Picking up her pace, she continued in the direction Alistair was last seen in. Behind her, the nurse sighed impatiently at the soldier.

"That's quite enough out of you. You need to calm yourself, or else you'll exacerbate your wounds"

Jethro turned towards the nurse and shook her shoulders. "They were everywhere, woman! I'm telling you! I saw them, I did!"

OoOoOoOo

Walking up the ramp to the platform, Wynter spied two figures arguing. Or, one person arguing and the other provoking.

"What is it now? Haven't Grey Wardens asked enough of the Circle?" The mage snidely remarked. His purple robes were clean and without creases, and not a hair was out of place on his head. He was the epitome of organized cleanliness. Even his staff was spotless.

The other man, who fit the description the Warden had given her of Alistair, held up his hands in a calming gesture, his countenance screaming false sincerity. "I simply came to deliver a message from the revered mother, ser mage. She desires your presence."

The mage scoffed in annoyance. "What her Reverence 'desires' is of no concern to me! I am busy helping you Grey Wardens; by the king's orders, I might add!"

Alistair snickered internally as he mockingly asked, "Should I have asked her to write a note?"

The mage stomped his foot in indignation. "Tell her I refuse to be harassed in this manner!"

"Yes," Alistair said sarcastically. "I was harassing you by delivering a message. I am so _terribly_ sorry."

Wynter smirked at the man's gall. Most people waited until they were at a safe distance before baiting a mage, but this guy did it so naturally. She knew most would expect her to defend other mages just because they were mages, but no one knew as well as she did how stuck up some of them could be. In fact, in some regards they were worse than the templars because she had to share a room with them as apprentices.

The mage sniffed, offended. "Your glibness does you no credit."

Alistair put a hand to his heart as if the mage's words had physically wounded him. "And here I thought we were getting along _so_ well. I was even going to name one of my children after you…" He looked the mage up and down. "The _grumpy_ one."

"Enough!" The mage shouted, his face flushed in anger. "I will speak to the infernal woman if I must!" Stomping towards the ramp, he rudely shouldered past Wynter. "Get out of my way, fool!"

Scowling at his back, Wynter walked up to Alistair looked up at him. One thing that sucked about being elvhen was that most shemlen were taller than her. She stood just below his shoulder, making her look like a child compared to him, though he couldn't be more than a few years older than her. His light brown hair was short and slightly spiky on top, and his armour looked well-worn and old.

Alistair turned to the girl next to him and said conversationally, "You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together."

Wynter raised her right eyebrow and sarcastically agreed. "I know _exactly_ what you mean."

Alistair continued mock-seriously, hands gesturing lazily in the air. "It's like a party; we could all stand in a circle and hold hands. That would give the darkspawn something to think about."

"Make it a square and I'll bring the party games. Pin the tail on the darkspawn good for you?" Wynter asked amusedly.

"Lovely! We could-wait," Alistair looked at her, confused. "Why a square?"

"Long story." Wynter waved her hand dismissively. "In short, I'm sick and tired of circles."

Still confused, Alistair looked questioningly at the shorter elf. "Okay…" He drew out, before taking a good look at her. "Wait, we haven't met, have we? I don't suppose you happen to be another mage?"

Wynter looked up at him cheekily. "Would that make your day worse?"

"Hardly." Alistair stated dryly as he ignored her muttered 'rats!'. "I just like to know my chances of being turned into a toad at any given minute."

Wynter snorted in amusement as he talked about his fear of being turned into a toad.

"Wait!" Alistair exclaimed excitedly, pounding his fist into his hand. "I _do_ know who you are. You're Duncan's new recruit, from the Circle of Magi. I should have recognized you right away. I apologize."

"Because I'm _so_ much more unique than the other mages you'd be able to pick me out in a crowd." Wynter paused and looked at her new attire. "Shut up." Rolling her eyes at his chuckles, she glared at him. "I realize that mage was a pompous windbag, but you should say so now if you have a problem with my magic. Not that I'd care, exactly. It'd just be nice to know."

"No, no problem." Alistair explained quickly. "It's just, my background makes mages nervous. And nervous mages make me nervous. I don't want to be a toad; I like the way I am."

Wynter regarded him sceptically. "Your background?"

"Ah, yes." Alistair cleared his throat nervously and smiled. "You see, I was once a templar, which puts me into an awkward position, as you witnessed before. The Circle is here at the king's behest, and the Chantry doesn't like that one bit. They just love letting the mages know how unwelcome they are- but don't get me wrong! I don't think you're unwelcome at all."

Frowning, Wynter pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose as if she smelled something rank. "You were a mage-hunter?"

"Not that that's all templars do, but yes." Alistair tried half-heartedly to defend his former occupation. "The Chantry raised me until Duncan recruited me six months ago." Here he continued wryly, "I'm absolutely sure the revered mother meant it as an insult; sending me as her messenger; and the mage picked right up on that. I never would have agreed to deliver it, but Duncan says we're all to cooperate and get along." He shrugged his shoulders in a what-can-you-do kind of way. "Apparently they didn't get the same speech."

Smiling jovially, he slapped her on her back making her stumble forward. "But I digress, allow me to introduce myself: I'm Alistair, the newest Grey Warden, though I guess you knew that. As junior member-wait, your name was?"

"Not mentioned." Wynter winced slightly as she rotated her shoulder. Glancing upwards, she rolled her eyes at boyish puppy-dog expression he was wearing. "Wynter."

Pausing, he cocked his head to the side. "No, I'm pretty sure it's spring at the moment, with the rains and all."

Huffing exasperatedly, Wynter corrected him. "I bloody well know its spring at the moment, what I meant was my name is Wynter."

"Well, why didn't you say so at the beginning?" Smile back in place, he continued his earlier rant. "Where was I? Oh, right. As junior member of the order, I'll be accompanying you when you prepare for the Joining."

The two of them started down the ramp and headed in the direction Duncan said he'd be.

"Can't I prepare on my own?" Wynter asked, half pleadingly.

"I know, I felt the same way when I did this." Alistair placated sympathetically. "Unfortunately, they don't give us much choice." Adopting a thoughtful look, he regarded his new companion once again. "You know…it just occurred to me that there have never been many women in the Grey Wardens. I wonder why that is?"

Blinking incredulously at the Grey Warden, Wynter wondered if he even realised he had insulted her. Probably not. He seemed to be the slightly oblivious sort. "Probably because we're too smart for you."

"True." Alistair agreed musingly. "But if you're here, what does that make you?"

"Incredibly unlucky." Wynter deadpanned.

"Ouch." Alistair winced in mock hurt.

They walked in silence for a few more minutes, Wynter with an eyebrow quirked at her companion's bright smile.

"Seriously," Wynter started, wondering at the ex-templar's state of mind. He seemed nice enough; playful and able to take a joke. He did seem a little slow, though at least he wasn't conceited. "You don't really have to accompany me, do you?"

Alistair smiled teasingly at Wynter. "Don't worry; I'll try not to embarrass you."

OoOoOoOo

A/N: It's shorter than the previous chapters, but come on. It's Ostagar. I mean, seriously, what happens in Ostagar? I'll tell you what. Nothing. I should update the next instalment within the week. I've suddenly found myself with a lot of free time, which means I'm actually bored enough to write until 4AM. Once they actually start their quest I'll be able to add extra chapters that veer away from the main story line and deal with something even more important. Like the romance part of this story. It has to start somewhere.

Next Chapter: The Wilds


	4. Wild Cat

_**A/N:**__Umm… Happy New Year? Work owns me and I still haven't fixed my keyboard (using my sisters) and… and… I'll just get right to the chapter…_

_Rated for swearing and gore. For some reason this chapter is rather… gore-y-er than the others._

_**Warnings: Refer to chapter one.**_

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Dragon Age or anything you recognize. Sadly, I probably don't own the things you don't recognize either.

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**Wynter's Grasp**

**Chapter 3 – Wild Cats**

OoOoOoOoOoOo

A curse fell from her lips as she clutched the shaft embedded in her side, the slight distraction giving the matted wolf enough time to catch her unawares. Hissing in pain, she kicked the offending beast off of her and struggled to her knees, shooting a dark glare at the bumbling idiot who shot her. Jory was unaware of her stormy gaze, however, as he stood back to back with Dareth and used his bow as a club to ward off the circling wolves.

Struggling to her feet, she shifted her attention back to her adversary. Though small, she wasn't a weakling, and her kick had sent the wolf careening into a tree. Knowing that she had little time before it gathered its wits and that her movement was limited with the arrow sending sharp bolts of pain through her side every time she shifted, Wynter focused on the one thing that came as naturally to her as breathing.

One hand clutching her injured side and one stretched towards her enemy, Wynter called forth an ice spell, hitting both targets successfully. Her side now numb from the overwhelming cold, Wynter grunted in annoyance as the wolf she had been engaging let off a clear howl before its vocal cords froze up with the rest of it. Darting quickly out of the way of a set of large canines, she scowled, allowing her magic to spill into the staff clutched tightly in her hands.

"What is it with you mangy beasts and my bloody staves!" The starved wolf growled and shook its head roughly, trying to dislodge the staff from her grip. Eyebrow twitching dangerously, she growled back at the wolf as she stared into its crazed red eyes. Letting loose the magic that had built up dangerously within the enchanted wood, Wynter's eyes flashed in grim satisfaction as the beast let out a loud yelp, blood gushing forth from its mouth.

Leaning against her staff, she watched stoically as the wolf stumbled around in dazed confusion, its eyes glassy and its lower jaw hanging wide as the river of blood flowing from it steadily increased. It was only a few moments later that the wolf suddenly froze and crumpled to the ground in a heap, the last of its liquefied brains escaping onto the ground.

"Maker." Wynter's eyes slid to the side and alighted on the approaching Dareth, his face an amalgam of twisted wonder and disgust. "I've seen some serious shit; when we were kids the other village rats threw a cat off a cliff to see if it would land on its feet, stupid thing made the oddest noises as it fell. When I saw it after that it was all wiggly and shit and bent into the oddest angles. But that…" He whistled as he examined the corpse of the wolf, nudging its broken jaw in fascination before scuffing his boot in the grass to rid it of fleshy organs. "I don't have a word for that."

"It's monstrous, is what it is," Jory sniffed haughtily as he picked his way through the dead corpses, coming to a stop next to Dareth and gazing upon the wolf in repulsion. "Absolutely barbaric. Completely uncivilized."

Wynter clenched her teeth as caught the double meaning; those words were meant for her as much as they were meant for the creature at her feet. Straightening, she glared at the tall human. Opening her mouth, her reply was cut off as Dareth slapped the slightly shorter man on the back.

"Lighten up ser knight, we've got each other's back." Dareth's grin might have been genuine, but the yellow teeth and the glint in his eyes as he glanced back at the animal quashed any thoughts that it might be friendly.

"There are some things, thief, that I do not want anywhere near my back." Jory scowled as he knocked the hand off his shoulder before wiping his hand on his armor as if to scrape the slime off of it. "Fortunately, however, I do know how to organize my priorities."

Dareth grunted as he dug into his armor and pulled out a flask. Taking a long swig, he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and offered it to Jory. "Here, this'll help ya get that stick out of yer ass."

Jory's expression turned indignant as Alistair walked over and bent down, wiping the nearly black blood of the wolves off of his blade. "Everybody in one piece?"

Wynter's glare never left Jory as a slight tingling in her side alerted her to the fact that her spell was wearing off. "I do believe you should be more careful with those arrows. It would be a shame to hit something by accident." Her tone was low, her voice clipped.

Jory looked down his nose at her as if she were a lowly clump of dirt beneath his bloody boot. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about. I saw a group of beasts and I shot." His features became even more smugly arrogant, if that were possible, as he shot her another look of disdain. "Have no fear, however. I made certain there was no chance of hitting any human beings before I shot at the beasts."

Eyes flashing as he turned around and began to follow the others, Wynter let a smirk fall across her features as she raised her voice. "I see. I'm glad you're being so careful, Jery, it is so easy for accidents to happen in a place like this, you see. Your actions are commendable; I'll be certain to follow your example from now on."

Jory's back stiffened as he growled. "It's Jory."

"Oh, my apologies, Jeery." Bringing up the rear, Wynter was gratified to see the human glance uneasily at her staff.

A few minutes passed as the company traveled in silence, each member feeling tense by the lack of noise. The Wilds were supposed to be storming with darkspawn. They should have encountered an army by now, or at least scouts, yet so far the only predators they had encountered had been the twisted wolves.

A slight sound caused Wynter's ears to twitch slightly. Blinking, she discarded the groaning sounds of a human as unimportant and strained her ears for the first sound. Scanning the dark underbrush, a faint whisper of fur against leaves caused her to twirl around, her surprised gaze connecting with a pair of golden orbs boring into her own. Unconsciously taking a step forward, her concentration was broken as she stumbled in surprise, her ears ringing from Dareth's loud exclamation. Bringing her eyes back to the bushes, Wynter was surprised to feel disappointed. They were empty.

"Oy, I think he's still alive!" Dareth bounded up to the injured soldier crawling along the path in front of them, the rest of the company stopping as well.

"Who…" The soldier rasped, licking his cracked and bloody lips. "Is that?" His breath rattled as he inhaled and exhaled. A wracking cough seemed to cripple him for a moment as blood dribbled out of his mouth. "Grey… Wardens…?"

Wynter came to a stop next to the only one of them who actually was a Warden. Applying another dose of ice to her wound, she watched halfheartedly as Dareth attempted to gently pull the soldier into a seated position yet nearly managed to make the man double over in pain once more.

"Well, he's not half as dead as he looks, is he?" Wynter snorted as Alistair commented sarcastically.

Eyeing the beaten up man, Wynter had to agree. His armor was slashed and bloodied, holding onto his ragged form by only a few shreds and dragging behind his as he crawled. His once blond hair was dark and caked to his face with dried blood. His face was bruised and broken; one eye was nearly swollen shut over an unfocused eye. He had lost his gloves somewhere along the way seeing as his fingertips were raw and bleeding, the hard ground having shredded them as he crawled.

"My…" The soldier winced under his own weight as Dareth let go of him and gasped, "My scouting party was attacked by darkspawn!" Coughing a glob of blood onto Jory's boot as he clutched his abdomen, the soldier struggled to regain his breath. "They came out of the ground… Please, help me! I've got to… I must return to camp…"

Watching in amusement as Jory attempted to hide his disgusted scowl as he surreptitiously wiped his boot; Wynter gazed back at the fallen human. Staying in one place, around so many corpses, was making her uneasy. The fallen were a veritable feast for the darkspawn, and if the soldier were to be believed they were close by. However, it didn't feel right to just leave the half dead man to his own fate. His information could be useful to the others and he, at least, had done nothing to earn her ire.

Ignoring the glint in Dareth's eyes and the barely concealed disdain in Jory's, Wynter turned to the only one of her companions she had bothered to develop any kind of rapport with. Exchanging a glance, Wynter shrugged.

"We can't afford to go back now." Alistair stated.

"Nope."

"The mission comes first."

"Of course."

"However…" Alistair grinned innocently. "I am feeling kind of… woozy. It might be best if we take a few minutes to make sure I haven't been poisoned by the wolves."

"Indeed," Wynter nodded sagely, ignoring the looks the two of them were drawing. "Of course, It would be terribly rude of us to check your injuries and not extend that service to our guest."

"Indeed." Alistair agreed solemnly, a twinkle in his eye. "Terribly rude."

"Why yes," Wynter sighed in mock despair, the banter managing to knock her from her funk. "Your mother would be terribly ashamed of you if you were to do so."

"Oh no," Alistair shook his head seriously. "We can't have Mother rolling in her grave."

They gazed at each other in mock solemnity, their heads bowed in respect. A few moments of silence passed before their masks broke. Alistair began to chuckle as Wynter unsuccessfully tried to hide her grin, a task witch proved futile once her enhanced hearing picked up Jory mumbling to himself in distress about being surrounded by thieving idiots.

Dareth scratched his head in confusion. "What's so funny bout your old lady rolling in a grave?"

Rolling his eyes, Alistair knelt to the ground by the injured man, swinging his pack off his shoulder and ruffling through it. "I have some bandages in my pack, though I'm pretty low on medicinal herbs. It should hold you until camp, though."

A few minutes passed as Wynter kept her ears cocked for intruders, the silence broken only by the grunts and groans of the wounded. Alistair sat back on his heels and wiped his hands on his trousers, before heaving the man carefully into a standing position. Nodding at his work, Alistair grinned. "Not my prettiest work, but it should do."

"Thank you!" The soldier still weaved with every breath, but at least with his ribs tapped up it wasn't as painful for him to move. "I… I've got to get out of here!"

Watching the man stumble down the beaten path, Wynter cocked her eyebrow and smirked as Jory began to speak nervously.

"Did you hear?" His eyes shifted around before coming to rest on the leader of their group once more. "An entire patrol of seasoned men killed by darkspawn!"

"Calm down, Ser Jory," Alistair rolled his eyes as the egotistical man became a mass of frightened goo at the first sign of darkspawn. "We'll be fine if we're careful."

"Those soldiers were careful, and they were still overwhelmed. How many darkspawn can the four of us slay? A dozen? A hundred?" His eyes flickered nervously to his left where a rock stood, before settling on Wynter's suddenly innocent form, her foot covering a depression in the ground where the rock once lay. "There's an entire army in these forests!"

"No!" Wynter gasped exaggeratedly, her eyes comically wide as she clutched the side of her face in faux panic. "Say it isn't so! An _Army_? I thought we were all camped in Ostagar to play pin-the-tail-on-the-darkspawn, not fight an _army_! Oh, whatever shall we _do_!"

Jory glowered at the small elf, his hands twitching menacingly at his side. Lowering her hands, Wynter allowed her expression to slide into a satisfied smirk before winking at him, causing him to let out a strangled sort of growl, to her great amusement.

"Yes, well," Alistair coughed slightly to hide his growing amusement. "There are darkspawn about, but we're in no danger of walking into the bulk of the horde."

"How do you know? I'm not a coward-" Wynter snorted, "but this is foolish and reckless. We should go back."

"For you, perhaps," Wynter raised a condescending eyebrow. "You forget I have magic at my command. I know who my allies are. We'll be fine." Wynter ignored the uneasy shifting of her companions when she mentioned her magic, her eyes focused on the slightly paler Jory.

"Y-yes, well." Jory cleared his throat. "I still do not relish the thought of encountering an army."

"Know this: All Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn." Alistair stepped in, drawing Dareth's attention away from the gnawed on remains of a bull. "Whatever their cunning, I guarantee they won't take us by surprise. That's why I'm here."

"You see, ser knight," Dareth grinned mock sympathetically. "We might die, but we'll be warned about it first."

"That is…" Jory glanced at Alistair. "Reassuring?"

"That doesn't mean I'm here to make this easy, however." Alistair swung his pack over his shoulder once more and secured it. "So let's get a move on."

OoOoOoOoOoOo

Wynter panted tiredly as she wiped sweat mingled with blood off her forehead. Jumping over a downed genlock, she used her staff as a bludgeoning weapon, too tired to call upon what little reserves of mana she had left. With a sickening squishing sound, the tip of her staff buried itself into the skull of the half dead hurlock lumbering after her. The much larger figure crumpled to the ground, its limbs twitching as she attempted to free her staff from its nervous system.

Dareth whooped in joy from the other side of the clearing as the last darkspawn fell under his blade, the others regrouping around him. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, Wynter braced her foot against the disfigured thing and finally succeeded in yanking her staff free, though she was caught unawares by a few pieces of grey matter.

"Oh." Wynter shook her head rapidly, feeling bits and pieces of the hurlock flying with every shake. Never one to care about her looks, Wynter believed she finally found the line she was loathe to cross. _Mismatching clothes? What the hell. Odd socks? Even better. Dirt? It's everywhere. Pieces of mulch-ified darkspawn? Hell. No._ A shiver went up her spine as what looked like a shriveled grey finger flew to the ground. "Yuck."

Staggering over to her companions, she leant heavily against her bloodied staff, too tired to care about the looks shot at her disheveled head. Alistair stood up from his crouch, two vials of dark liquid clenched in his hand. Safely tucking them away into a pouch, he looked around and spotted her still bleeding kills. "Alright. Once I finish collecting the blood we'll have to make our way to the tower to find those documents for Duncan. I don't sense any more darkspawn in this area so it's a perfect place to take a break. Sit down, rest, whatever; just be ready for more darkspawn once we continue."

Watching as Alistair walked over to the barely twitching hurlock, a slight sound made her clench her staff. Quickly scanning the underbrush, she spied the golden orbs once more, though this time, if she squinted, she could just make out the small outline of a dark furry head.

Tuning back in to the conversation between the other two initiates, her glance kept drifting back to the eyes. This time, they were there when she looked a second time, proving she wasn't hallucinating.

"Bloody magic. What good is it?" Jory scoffed as he folded his arms across his chest. "We'd be better without it, is what I say."

Dareth eyed him skeptically. "Magic ain't my best bud either, ser knight, but that's not what you were saying a few minutes ago when that purple bolt stopped that darkspawn from walking away with your head."

"Bah!" He spat on the ground. "Magic is outlawed for a reason, thief, and you'd do well not to forget it. As for my… savior." His face turned into a grimace as he managed to make the word sound like a dire insult. "I would have been perfectly fine without the interference of an _elven mage_."

Eyes snapping back from the golden orbs, Wynter clenched her teeth against the words fighting to spill from her lips. Instead, she counted backwards in Orlesian, took a deep breath, and smirked coldly. "Say, Joxy." Wynter waved her hand inconsequentially at his protest against her butchering of his name. "Do you know how I was recruited?"

"And why, pray tell, would I care?" Jory glowered.

"Ah, you see, it's quite the interesting story. I had just proven myself to be a competent mage when my friend came to me with quite the interesting idea. You see," Wynter leaned in conspiratorially, yet made to attempt to temper her voice. "He was quite unhappy at the tower, as was I, and so devised a plan to escape. I helped him, and while he's wandering free around Ferelden, Duncan offered to make me into a Grey Warden." _Well. It didn't happen quite like that, but details are irrelevant at the moment._

"So?" He was squirming slightly, yet still putting up a front of self-centered confidence.

"So?" Wynter's eyes danced as her grin widened wickedly. "My friend, whom I helped escape and is now…somewhere." Here she took the time to look slowly back and forth, as if he were waiting in the trees. "He is not the kind of mage you'd find running around the Circle. No wonder he didn't fit in. You see, my friend… is a blood mage."

Wynter gloated internally in satisfaction as Jory's face paled, becoming stark white against the blood spattered liberally along his brow. Leaving the speechless men behind, she headed towards the little creek behind the trees. Confusion marred her face for a moment as she gazed into golden eyes for a split second before they disappeared.

They had looked… amused.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

Plopping down beside the creek, Wynter tiredly dropped her staff. Leaning against a rotting moss covered log, she closed her eyes. Urging her mana stores to regenerate faster, she let her mind wander. If anyone had asked her a week ago where she thought she'd be, she'd have said they could find her in the library. Never in her dreams had she ever hoped to escape the tower and be in the outside world. Or, never had she dreamed that she'd be able to successfully leave the tower. And now here she was, in a dreary, wet forest crawling with darkspawn in an attempt to become a Grey Warden.

And she loved every minute of it.

One might think of it as trading a cage for a cage, but she'd pick being bound to the Wardens over the Circle any day. Being a Grey Warden would give her a measure of freedom and respect she couldn't remember ever having. The knowledge that the templars wouldn't be able to touch her; that freedom was within her grasp.

It was… exhilarating.

Ears twitching as a faint sound reached her, Wynter sprung into a sitting position, her arm reaching for her staff before she doubled over in pain. "Ohh…" Moaning between clenched teeth, she clutched her wounded side. Though she had shortened the shaft of wood so it wasn't in her way, she had yet to remove the arrow from her side in fear of bleeding into unconsciousness. Now without her magic to refreeze the area coupled with her sudden movements… Wynter was in pain.

Blinking her slightly teary eyes, she relaxed slightly as she didn't hear the telltale stomps of one of her companions rushing her way. In the tall grass near the creek by her left, Wynter once again saw the golden eyes. Because of her proximity and enhanced eyesight, she was able to make out more of the figure than before, despite the darkness of its hiding place. After a few moments of scrutiny on both parts as Wynter wrangled her harsh gasps once again into control, she was able to make out why exactly she had been having a hard time seeing the animal. Its small form was covered head to toe in a silky black fur coat; perfect camouflage in the dark underbrush of the Wilds.

"Hi." Wynter blinked at the small animal. "I've seen you before." She could almost imagine it with a raised eyebrow as it looked at her languidly, unimpressed.

"Umm…" Unsure of what to say, or why she felt the need to say anything at all, she glanced around for inspiration as she slowly let go of her wound. Not finding what she was looking for she looked helplessly back at the animal.

Caught in a staring contest, the silence stretched on as the moments passed slowly. Unhurriedly, the golden eyes shifted slightly down and to the side, before connecting with her own again, somehow managing to look pointedly yet unconcerned at the same time.

Glancing down confusedly, she tried to find what had interested the small beast. Somehow she didn't think it was interested in her wounds, but besides the dirt and the grass, there was nothing else that lined up with its earlier gaze.

"Umm, this?" She gestured to the red splotch on her once beige tunic and the small piece of wood poking out of her skin. Taking the steady gaze as a confirmation to continue, Wynter shrugged her shoulders slightly, frowning. "Bastard Jory shot me while I was occupied with some wolves. I may have taken my frustration out on the beasts." Indignant once again as she thought of earlier, Wynter sniffed. "Well. I'm still debating if making him wet his pants earlier is retribution enough." Sure she saw a glint flash through those eyes once more, Wynter paused.

Slightly uncomfortable with the eyes boring into her as if to say 'and…?', she shifted, mumbling. "I- ah… hmm.. I, that is, Ireallydon'tlikemedecine. I'll, uh, take care of it once we get back to camp." Glancing up at the beast through her lashes, she smiled sheepishly. "So, uh, what are you anyways?"

Again, she pictured a raised eyebrow. _Damn, maybe I'm feverish for talking to an animal as if it could talk back… but there's something… intelligent about it. Something… magical. I can feel the carefully controlled power; can See it. _"I mean, you don't look like the mabari, so you're probably not a dog. You don't have wings, so avian animals are out." She tilted her head in concentration, appraising the fluffy black creature. "No scales; not a reptile. No gills; not an amphibian." Tapping her finger to her lips thoughtfully, she slammed her fist into her hand. "Of course! You don't look like one I've seen, but you must be a rat!"

Wynter's grin turned into a frown as the creature's hackles rose, an indignant hiss escaping its bared teeth. "No?" Wynter mumbled dejectedly, eyes downcast. "I've never actually seen many animals. Today was the first time I saw a dog outside an illustration in a book." The hissing died down, the creature sitting down with an imperial sniff, its tail curling around its feet. "I've remembered bits and pieces over the years, but most of my life before the Circle… acquired me is still fuzzy. I'm sorry."

"And-and I know you're intelligent; I can see it in your eyes. And your aura isn't dark and twisted like the wolves or the darkspawn, so I know you're not evil or anything so… maybe you could help me out?" Deciding to once more take the silence as confirmation, she grinned mischievously. "Okay; you're black, but no wings so you aren't a bat. You're not a lizard, a fish, a bird, a dog, or a rat. Are you a porcupine?" _Hiss_. "No, no, forgot. Porcupines have quills. A skunk?" _HISS_. "Guess not. Ferret?"

Wynter eyed the figures raised fur and gleaming claws as it glared at her. "Sorry; same family." Sighing in frustration, she ran a hand through her matted hair, grimacing as it got stuck and tugged at her sensitive skull. "What about a cat?" Gingerly picking apart the clump of blood, it took her a few minutes to realize everything was silent. Blinking, she glanced quickly into the once more languid gaze of her little friend. "Cat? You're a cat?"

Grinning crazily in wonder, she studied the furry figure at length, not daring to move closer in case she scared it. "That's so cool. The first time I see a dog and a cat; and it's in the same day!" Folding her hands in her lap, she tried not to blatantly stare at the cat, but her gaze kept sliding towards it, no matter where she instructed her eyes to look at.

_Irritated. _

The cat's posture hadn't changed from its lax position, but the golden eyes gave it away. They were quite expressive. "I don't mean to stare Ms. Cat, it's just… Well…" Wynter looked helplessly around her for an answer before deciding on the awkward truth. "You're beautiful."

_Startled._

Not sure why her cheeks were heating up into a faint blush, Wynter squashed the confusing feelings down. It was just a cat; albeit a smart cat with at least a smidgeon of power. But still just a cat nonetheless. Fidgeting slightly, Wynter scrambled to think of something to break the now awkward silence. _Listen to yourself! How can you have an awkward silence with a cat? By the gods, suck it up and swallow some damn medicine before you start spouting poetry to that gnarled bush over there!_ Opening her mouth to blurt something out, a noise from behind had her tensing.

"Alistair says it's time to move out," Jory's disdain was offset but the fact that his voice shook slightly. "So I suggest you stop talking to yourself like a lunatic and hurry up. The sooner I'm out of you- the darkspawn's company, the better."

Raising an eyebrow, an impish smile slid onto Wynter's face. Grabbing her staff, she used it to lever herself to her feet. "Oh, I wasn't talking to myself." Casually walking towards the idiot, she smiled serenely.

"Oh? Than just what were you talking to?" Despite his indifferent tone, it was painfully obvious just how curious he was.

"Just a cat." She threw out blithely.

"A cat." Jory deadpanned, incredulously.

"Why, yes. A cat. A lovely black cat, I may add." She laughed maniacally on the inside, hoping he made the connection between black cats and witches.

"A b-black cat. You were talking with a black cat." Wynter's face became serious as she neared him, nearly folding against the effort not to smirk at the man's nervous perspiration.

"Mmhmm. We had a lovely chat. A rather interesting conversation, I might add. It started with arrows and continued onto the subjects of rats and quills and beauty." Here she let herself stumble slightly and giggle, her eyes purposefully unfocused. Letting loose a single arcane bolt, she zapped the man in front of her.

"What the-" His face started turning red in anger as he rubbed his side.

"Oh, I apologize. I was aiming at…" Wynter spun slightly, pointing to his side.

"A tree." His face was an amalgam of fury, bluster, and fright.

"Of course I was." Wynter nodded as if to a small child. "Must be a slow day for you. It called me fat."

"It…" Jory stared at her in disbelief as she glared at the tree before passing it.

"Called me fat. Yes." With the man behind her, she let the grin she had somehow been successful at holding in loose, a low chuckle escaping her lips. Either he would think that she was conspiring against him with a black cat… Or he would believe he was travelling with a mentally unstable mage. Retribution was oddly satisfying.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

A/N: Short chapter, but it's better than nothing… And it seemed like a good place to stop. I'd just like to say I haven't given up on this story, I've just been busy. But I'll be starting a few classes this month and so I'll be cutting down on work. What better way to warm up for, say, an English or Writing class than to… write?


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